


conversation starters

by ladylannisterxo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Character Death, Request Drabble, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylannisterxo/pseuds/ladylannisterxo
Summary: Requested Prompt: "I'll take care of you." - "It's rotten work." - "Not to me. Not if it's you."
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Kudos: 41





	conversation starters

The bite on your leg was grotesque and yet, you couldn’t look away from it. Those demodogs, as Dustin had begun calling them, were vicious little creatures and when their faces opened up, _teeth_ … just rows and rows of teeth. You blink rapidly, attempting to erase the images from your mind but you know you won’t be forgetting those monsters anytime soon, if ever.

You had stumbled through the doors of that lab, Bob Newby hot on your heels and for a moment, a _nanosecond_ , all was calm. You had made it. But, as always, all good things must come to an end and the door wasn’t nearly as strong as you had hoped. They took Bob down quicker than the scream could rip itself from your throat and then one turned its attention to you. It clamped down onto your leg with such ferocity, you were sure it was going to tear it from you completely. Hopper made his decision rather quickly, shooting at the one making a meal out of you over the four covering Bob. When the demodog recoiled from the bullets, Hopper lifted you into his arms and carried you to safety outside the lab. Bob was left behind and that guilt would weigh on you for a long, long time.

Joyce busied herself with patching you up when you all arrived back at her home. You’re certain it was to keep her mind off of losing Bob. You couldn’t blame her for that. Afterwards, Hopper insisted on a twenty-four hour observation period because as far as you all knew, no one had survived a demodog attack so it was unclear as to what would happen next. Would the bite become infected? Would you mutate? Would you get some type of power? _Would you die?_

You were now situated in what you could only assume was Jonathan’s room with a plethora of pillows and blankets and your leg propped up. You had nothing left to do except wait, considering you were officially out of the game until further notice. You hear quick footsteps coming down the hall and then Steve is standing in the doorway, eyes wide and out of breath.

“You’re alive.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Were you told I wasn’t?”

“They said you were hurt.”

“That doesn’t make me dead, Steve,” you laugh, patting the spot next to you, “come sit with me.”

He approaches you slowly and sits down more gingerly on the bed than you thought was possible for him to achieve. He eyes your leg warily, all patched up with flecks of dried blood donning the stark white bandage. You take his hand in your own.

“Hey,” you whisper, “are you okay?”

He scoffs. “I should be asking you that.”

“I didn’t die.”

“Thank God,” he mumbles and you’re not sure if the statement was meant for you to hear or not. You choose to ignore it.

“I should have been there,” he says after a moment.

“ _No_ , you shouldn’t have,” you say, squeezing his hand, “none of us should have been there. Besides, you were helping the kids and I think that was pretty cool of you.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his lips and he shifts his eyes from your leg up to your face. You grant him a soft smile in return, squeezing his hand once again.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“What’s life without a little adventure?” You shrug. “Although, injuries like this tend to make adventures very short. Ms. Byers was kind enough to put me up in here and Hop insists I take it easy.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he says quickly, a small blush rising in his cheeks a moment later.

“It’s rotten work,” you laugh, gesturing to your wounded leg.

“Not to me.” He shrugs, eyes searching your own. “Not if it’s you.”

Your breath quickens as you melt underneath his searing gaze. He rubs his thumb gently across your hand and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You follow the movement with your eyes and for a brief moment, you wonder what exactly Steve Harrington tastes like. It’s like he’s reading your mind when his eyes flit from your own to your lips and back up. He shifts closer to you and your breath hitches.

“[Y/N], I-”

“ _Steve!_ ”

The shout from the kitchen shatters the moment entirely and you can’t help but snort a laugh. Only Dustin could achieve such a feat. Steve shakes his head, letting out a harsh sigh.

You nod toward the door. “You should probably go see what he needs. If you don’t, you know he’ll just come find you.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he mumbles with a nod.

He squeezes your hand once before letting go and you’re surprised to discover how much you miss his touch already. He crosses over to the door, turning back to take in your disheveled appearance. He hesitates.

“We can finish this conversation later, right?”

You smirk. “This was a conversation?”

“The beginning of one,” he confirms, eyes focused intently on you.

“Yes, Steve, I would like us to finish this conversation later,” you say with a sweet smile, “I’m intrigued.”

He chuckles quietly, drumming his fingers against the wood paneling of the door. “Good,” he whispers and with a trademark Steve Harrington wink, he disappears.

You bite your lip, holding back the bubble of laughter building inside you. Twisting your fingers in your lap, you turn your attention back to your bandaged leg and realize that it doesn’t hurt quite as much as it did before. Tonight was bad, there is no denying that, but perhaps a new adventure awaits you on the horizon.


End file.
